The Meanings of Masks

What do you see in the above image?

If you’re anything like me, your first thought is “ritual cultic mask”.

In fact, it is thought more likely to be protective headgear worn during metal-working in Bronze Age Greece. The mask is one of many I saw displayed on a recent visit to the National Archaeological Museum in Athens. It is interesting that my preconceptions/mental associations of Ancient Greece as a powerful mystical cultural source led to my assuming the mask had an equally mystical role. It’s amusing to see one’s own assumptions turned on their head; it encourages further thought.

Masks are commonly thought of as means of disguise; a way to conceal identity from detection. But in fact, they can also be used to create identity. Think of the masks used in Greek theatre or Japanese Kabuki, both designed to evoke the spirit of a character and so allow the observer to know how to react to their stage antics. Think also of Venetian carnival masks, used in a more permissory manner to give the wearer freedom from their normal responsibilities; a license to be licentious.

Masks are also commonly used in funerary rites, especially in earlier eras (though the art of the modern mortician could be thought of as continuing this ritual remaking of the dead). The Mycenean golden death mask below is also from the Athenian National Archaeological Museum, and has the rare feature of depicting the dead person with eyes open:

The death mask illustrates another role of masks: to transform the person wearing the mask into something else. The image below from the Benaki Museum in Athens is not a mask (it’s a garment buckle) but my reflection in the cabinet’s glass while taking the photo neatly replaces my own face by the Gorgon’s face (you can just about see my shirt collar below). Another masked transformation of sorts…

Masks can therefore be co-opted as disguises, as emotional guides, and as transforming agents. And of course, they are deployed in a metaphorical way during our daily lives, as we mould our words and actions to suit different circumstances, sometimes suppressing our inner thoughts to do so.

On that note, I will end by quoting American author Clifton Fadiman on the risks of our using self-created masks too often:

For most men life is a search for the proper manila envelope in which to get themselves filed.

Mickey Mouse, Mammon, and the Pope

Disneyworld, Las Vegas, and the Vatican City. Three disparate locations; one shared phenomenon.

At Disney, it’s parade-time; in Vegas, it’s in effect as you walk onto the floor of a casino and observe the players; and in the Vatican City I saw it a week ago as the Pope was driven around St Peter’s Square.

All three places become home to communal acts of idolisation and worship. Despite different form, the essential emotional experience to participants is identical. The three locations are each overwhelmingly artificial; designed and built purely to facilitate worship. This deliberate other-worldliness is enforced by a shared obsession with pristine cleanliness within their borders, and a rigorously enforced exclusion of competing idols. Even the decor is carefully chosen to aggrandise the object of worship. The ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, the tromp l’oeil clouds of Caesar’s Palace, and the fairytale castle of the Magic Kingdom all fulfil the same purpose.

It is the human condition to crave a shared spiritual experience and anyone watching the Champions League final earlier this evening saw football provide the medium, and Wembley Stadium the setting, for a similar emotional experience. It is a desire to be part of something bigger than oneself, and so achieve a sense of immortality and overcome the transience of life and the permanence of death. Religion, Mythology, Folklore, the idols of corporations (including the famous Mouse), and even more abstract concepts like Money, all fulfil this tribal need of allowing the propagation of a cultural meme to the next generation.

Later on the same day I saw the Pope, I was mulling over these ideas while sipping espresso in the Piazza Navona and watching tourists and locals go about their day. What were they really achieving? What was the fundamental meaning of all this travel and pseudo-pilgrimage? It reminded me of the concept of “bucket lists” and their wistful attempt to apply some quantitative criteria to measure the significance of a life. Is it really enough?

It’s a very human thing to want to be able to say you have achieved something in life, even it’s just to have been happy. People talk about the importance of “a good death”, sometimes equating it to a painless sudden death at an advanced age. But I rather think it’s more about achieving a sense of acceptance about death: what Erikson would describe as having enough Ego Integrity to no longer give death a sense of importance in life, and so no longer need idols to worship.

The Modern-Day Monk

It is not surprising that several guests at Friday’s Royal Wedding were anonymously quoted as “feeling jaded” yesterday. Anticipation of great events is commonly followed by a drained numbness, even if the event meets elevated expectations. Life thus passes by as a series of interspersed highs and, if not lows, mediocre neutrals. Is this the sum total of the human experience?

Man has historically found three ways to neutralise this nihilistic perspective: fame, religion and propagation.

Fame, with its associated glamour, can be fleeting or it can last a lifetime. Occasionally it outlasts its originating source and is considered worthy – or notorious – enough to be important to historical and cultural record. Whether transient or semi-permanent, its nourishment to the famous person is thin when weighed against the permanence of death. It can sustain the mind in the short-term, but is ultimately lacking.

To combat this failure of Temporal Power to assuage anomie, religion developed to offer believers escape from death, whether through reincarnation or heaven. Such Spiritual Might remains a comfort to many, channelling and guiding human emotion into soothingly predictable paths. Like Temporal Power, it offers individuals a larger sense of self that is part of a grander existence than Hobbes’ description of Man’s life as “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short”.

But for many, meaningful fame is impossible (the Warhol-esque 15 minutes of reality TV or social networking hardly counts) and religious faith escapes them, or is actively shunned. Frequently, their final refuge is propagation and it is a rare parent indeed that does not think of their children as the best thing they ever did.

Creating the next generation is certainly a valuable role; I would not want to see the human species wiped out! But does it truly offer a solution to the impermanence of man? I suggest not; the real essence of even the best of parents is lost from collective memory within at most four generations. As long as the parent does not think too deeply about this inevitable historical dissipation, Familial Legacy can substitute for either Temporal Power or Spiritual Might and stave off despair at the prospect of death.

What if none of the above are to the liking of the individual, if all are thought to fail the essential test of overcoming fear of death and giving life meaning, what then?

Enter the Modern-Day Monk.

The archetype of the man who seeks spiritual enlightenment through disengagement from the world is an ancient one. We see echoes of his presence in all the major world religions, mythologies and philosophies. Traditionally, the Monk has sought physical separation from the world; either to wander alone or in the company of select fellow travellers on a similar journey. He has used asceticism as a tool to aid enlightenment. Asceticism encourages the abandonment of sensual pleasure and material wealth, deeming these to be distractions from personal growth.

The Modern-Day Monk follows a different path to individuation. It is not physical abandonment of the world that is important, but intellectual detachment. This detachment from the value systems of others (the Temporal, Spiritual and Familial spheres) nonetheless permits material and emotional engagement with the world. He is able to weigh up and measure situations and people rapidly, allowing only positive effects through to his inner self. He comes across to others as tolerant and moderate, as he has no need to be otherwise. He enjoys the world, but does not let the world rule his inner heart. And in the face of new challenges, he has an inner core of willpower – a clear sense of self – to neutralise against torment.

The more philosophically (or religiously) minded will have already identified the characteristics outlined in the preceding four sentence as the Four Cardinal Virtues: Prudence, Temperance, Justice, and Fortitude respectively. The virtues are named Cardinal for being the hinge (L. cardo) upon which rests the door of life. It is not the door to a physical retreat from the world as the first step to an afterlife. It is a system to support and enhance our human desire to be part of the world, while not being ruled by it.

The Modern-Day Monk lives well, as well as wisely.

Choosing Wisdom

Hermes Trismegistus, floor mosaic, Siena Cathedral, via Wikipedia

‘I will build the Zodiac…

The lives of men,

from birth to final destruction,

shall be controlled

by the hidden workings of this mechanism.’

Destiny and Necessity are cemented together.

Destiny sows the seed.

Necessity compels the result.

Few can escape their fate

or guard against

the terrible influence of the Zodiac…

If, however,

the rational part of a man’s soul

is illuminated…

… the working of these gods is as nothing.

But such men are few.

Most are led and driven by the gods

which govern earthly life…

To my way of thinking, however,

it is our duty not simply to acquiesce

in our human state,

but, through intense contemplation

of divine things,

to detach ourselves from our merely mortal nature.

Hermes Trismegistus in The Hermetica, as translated by Timothy Freke & Peter Gandy

Borrowed from the library of Dr Neel Burton

Compiled thousands of years ago at the time of the Pharoahs, is there any more prescient statement of Man’s current condition?

Beyond the mortal influences of genetic nature (Destiny) and environmental nurture with its unconscious influence on behaviour (Necessity), lies choice.

It is up to us to choose to think, to act freely, to gain insight, and so also gain Enlightenment.

Few make that choice.

A Glittering Festive Tree

Susanoo, God of Storms, feuded violently with his sister Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess.

Susanoo’s actions proved so distasteful to Amaterasu that she retreated to a cave, hiding her light from the world and plunging it into the darkness of winter.

At the height of winter, the other gods of the Japanese Shinto pantheon planned to rouse her from her cave. They adorned a tree with jewels and bronze, burnished to a mirror shine.

Lured out by the racket of their merry dancing around the festive tree, Amaterasu peered out from her cave, and the ray of light so released was the Dawn. It glanced off the mirror and Amaterasu was fascinated by the beautiful face that looked back at her. She came out of the cave, and the other Gods quickly barred her retreat, ensuring the end of the long cold darkness.

On Christmas Eve, as millions follow the ancient pagan German tradition of decorating a tree with shiny baubles, albeit now to welcome the birth of Christ, it’s interesting to note that there is a distant echo of this adorning of a tree to wake a deity in a very different culture.

A Very Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it!

Wandering the Desert

At least three world religions were born in the Desert.

Judaism, Christianity and Islam all owe their origins to the baking heat and sparse environs of the desert landscape. Abraham, Moses, John the Baptist, Jesus Christ, Mohammed; they all had their greatest revelations when alone in desert (or at least very barren) landscapes. Depending on their leaning, the religously-minded would suggest that this is because communion with God is only possible either when Man divests himself of physical distractions and so can focus on spiritual matters, or when he undergoes sufficient physical and emotional turmoil to turn to God for salvation.

A secularist reading of the pattern would suggest that these individuals – already unusual or eccentric, and possibly predisposed to odd beliefs and experiences – sought out solitude because that predisposition led them to be dissatisfied with a mundane life. And then in that harsh environment, they became sufficiently physically distressed to become delirious, an experience they interpreted as spiritual in nature.

Whichever reading is true (and in the end, the answer that satisfies you most boils down to which interpretative model you have most faith in), wandering the desert has acquired symbolic significance as a rite of passage. Whether literal or metaphorical, the idea that Man has to separate himself from the rest of the world to achieve higher purpose is a theme common to both religion and mythology, as well as being present in several schools of philosophy.

My previous entry elicited an intriguing comment from Touch2Touch which tessellated elegantly with some of my own pre-existing thoughts, and inspired me to write a post on the theme of separation from others as a result of finding contentment, security and tranquillity in one’s own internal assessment of any given situation.

Social networks (using the term in its broadest sense, not the e-variety) can certainly help those who feel lost. They provide a means of temporarily laying off responsibility for one’s own actions, decision-making and emotional stability to others. Support systems can be vital in this context, but I always find myself cringing when people talk of supportive social networks in a longer-term sense. To me, this attitude belies the essential meaning of the word “support”. Before wanting support, the key question must surely be: “support to do what?”

I would suggest that the end goal is not to be permanently supported by others, constantly having to use friendships and acquaintances to buttress your own emotional and intellectual needs, but to feel strong and comfortable enough in one’s own skin to be independent of that need.

This requires uncommon clarity of thought and purpose, as well as an unusual degree of insight. It is also unlikely to result without a intense amount of self-confidence in the method by which these individuals assess the world. This will seem to border on arrogance, except that observers will notice the world bending around these individuals, moulding itself to their will, rather than hitting them head-on in a violent crash as inevitably happens to the genuinely arrogant.

Wandering the desert is not so painful for these individuals as it would be for others. They have an internal moral compass that generally points them in a direction they’re happy with, and seem to carry around a portable oasis that nourishes and refreshes them when need arises. They enjoy meeting fellow travellers; companionship and hospitality are good traditions and can bring fresh news. And sometimes they even travel together for a while with the more pleasant and wise of their fellow nomads. But eventually the call of the empty dune summons them back to a solitary journey.

The great unanswered question should be: “what lapse of thought called the prophets of world religion back from the desert to commune once more with an unwise and ungrateful population?”

The Higher Path

Image via Wikipedia

Psychoanalysis is a technique to cure excessively suffering individuals of the unconsciously misdirected desires and hostilities that weave around them their private webs of unreal terrors and ambivalent attractions. The patient released from these finds himself able to participate with comparative satisfaction in the more realistic fears, hostilities, erotic and religious practices, business enterprises, wars, pastimes and household tasks offered to him by his particular culture.

But for the one who has deliberately undertaken the difficult and dangerous journey beyond the village compound, these interests too are to be regarded as based on error.

With these words in The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell describes the two types of journey most humans travel on through their lives, and the different ways they can react to therapy.

One group – the majority – seek out only a return to a shared delusion of normality: “the last projected fantasies of primitive physical will to live like other human beings; the will to live according to normal motives of desire and hostility, in a delusory ambient of phenomenal causes, ends and means”. This is nothing more than procrastination, but many people are not ready for something more, and at least it allows them to function within society.

Another group seek something higher. The subconscious conflict they feel between a yearning for life/flesh and a wish for death/peace is such that before they can return to the normal world, they must walk a different path. Many religions attempt to find a solution by theorising that the mortal life is fundamentally flawed (“sinful”), only to be redeemed after death; or that a true understanding of life can only come about through leaving behind physical limitations and accepting a transcendental unity (Buddhism). Clearly, these can be interpreted as two sides of the same coin.

Can this sense of tranquillity with existence be achieved during life itself? Again, I find myself returning to Epicurus for an answer:

• We must free ourselves from the prison of everyday affairs and politics
• The tranquil man is not troublesome to himself or to another
• There is also a limit to frugality. The man unable to consider this suffers a similar end as the man who indulges in excess
• The greatest fruit of self-sufficiency is freedom

All are taken from the Vatican Sayings, but I have taken the liberty of re-ordering them to make this point: the more the noble soul involves himself in the affairs of those trapped in unhappy states, the unhappier he will become. That does not mean he looks down on others, but simply recognises he operates differently. By limiting his exposure to the necessary minimum for his needs, he will be as free as possible.

And from freedom, comes tranquillity, or true happiness.

The Happiness Equation

The Ancients worshipped a varied pantheon with a myriad of priests. In a creditable effort to simplify matters, people decided that a more streamlined arrangement was needed. After a temporary flirtation with a Trinity, the modern world setted on dualism, it being easier to practise as it has one fewer deity to remember. The twin gods of Money and Time have fought for the souls of men ever since.

Money has the High Priests of the Square Mile and the Central Banks, worshipping in cathedrals dedicated to either Keynes or Hayek (there being something of a sectarian schism between those two tribes), whilst Time has New Age Gurus, the Remnant of the Older Religions and the ever-thriving self-help and positive psychology industry fighting in its corner. Management Consultants merrily straddle the netherworld betwixt the two religions, drawing on elements of each mythology to subtly further their vampiric aim of feeding off the life energy of everyone else…

Both religions offer the prospect of happiness. Put simply: the more money you have, the more of a shield you have from the viccissitudes of life and the more power you have to acquire things that please you; and the more time you have, the more opportunity you have to enjoy your purchases and to be with those whose company you appreciate. Both approaches therefore essentially worship the same god behind the curtains: Control.

The most fundamental thing people seek is a sense of control over their lives: a sense of choice, and of decisions freely made from a position of insight.

Money and Time are just proxy measures of this inner sense of calm. Like any proxy measure, the degree of linkage can vary. I’ve blogged before that the relationship of Money to Happiness is sigmoidal, with a significant “flat” part in the graph where only small incremental increases in happiness occur between solid (but modest) incomes and truly astronomical ones. I’ve also disccussed how being more efficient can lead to more free time, but the question still arises of what to actually do with that free time in order to be happy.

Money and Time are necessary but not sufficient conditions for a sense of control over one’s destiny. Some achieve this by paradoxically ceding all control to another entity: a God, a Political Party, a Cause. Despite my tongue-in-cheek commentary in the first couple of paragraphs, absolute faith in an extraneous entity remains a potent way of reaching a sense of destiny, and so, inner peace.

However, those of us whose personality and natural inclination veers away from the prospect of giving up our individuality to a larger body, this is cannot be a solution. Religion, Politics, and Causes offer happiness only if you can give of yourself fully to them so your own individual existence no longer matters, and only the wider project does. A cult member is blissfully happy in their belief system, but a chink of doubt quickly leads to collapse of the edifice.

For the rest of us, we have to look within to create our own sense of destiny and meaning, and so achieve happiness. Money and Time form the solid foundations, Insight provides the labour, and Control creates the conduit to Happiness.

Sight beyond sight

It used to be said that the eyes were the window into the soul… even if no-one can quite remember who said it first, the quote being variously attributed to the usual suspects of the Bible, Shakespeare, and various other historical luminaries. What is certain is that the eyes remain an source of vital information for the astute observer of non-verbal body language: the so-called Pan-Am Smile where lack of emotion is revealed by lack of movement in the muscles around the eyes; the sideways or downwards involuntary glance of the nervous, distracted or dissembling; the glazed expression of the average student in a mid-afternoon class and bored beyond redemption.

The blind Ancient Greek Tiresias even has two separate myths to account for his loss of sight. In one he was said to have been blinded in retaliation for seeing the goddess Athena naked while she bathed. Later relenting, Athena, unable to reverse the loss of his vision, gave him sight beyond sight: the power of prophecy. Another tale suggests that he displeased the goddess Hera by taking Zeus’ side in an argument over sexual pleasure, resulting in Hera blinding him and Zeus making partial amends by bestowing him with precognitive ability.

It is interesting to note that both these Greek Myths feature a female causing a man to lose his ability to see the world due to being too interested in sex but I leave the sociocultural implications of this to the ethnologists, or possibly the modern therapist.

Another similar aside requiring a dedicated specialist to fully interpret the meaning behind the symbolism would be that (depending on context and part of speech) we use the same word – “vision” – for the ability to see, for having a strong sense of imagination and purpose, and for experiencing visual hallucinations whether of psychatric, religious or pharmacological origin.

More prosaically, sight remains the sense most of us fear to lose the most, due to its primacy in how way we acquire data from the world. Three separate news stories over the last couple of days show we remain fascinated by stories of restoring sight, enhancing it, or even finding ways to abolish it altogether.

The painting above depicts an event from Ovid’s Metamorphoses. The nymph Liriope brings her infant baby Narcissus to Tiresias, so that he may foretell the child’s fate. Tiresias gnomically pronounces that Narcissus would live a long life provided he did not come to know himself. Narcissus pined away to death after seeing his own reflection, perhaps demonstrating that vision and insight are not always the same thing.

Halloween Zombies infect entire UK population

Growing up, almost nobody I knew celebrated Halloween.

At most, you might have seen a carved pumpkin or two, and a cursory noting of the date by attempting to eat a tooth-destroying toffee apple. But the big event we all looked forward to around this time of year were the fireworks of Guy Fawkes Night. I remember getting excited about buying Catherine Wheels, Sparklers, Roman Candles and Rockets.

About 10 to 15 years ago, things started to change. Small groups of trick-or-treaters started appearing. Since then the UK has increasingly taken Halloween to its heart. It’s always difficult to tell which comes first, popularity or commercial merchandising, but the graph below (taken from this article) shows just how big the Halloween business has become.

The big point to note is that the absolute figures are still quite modest and the growth is still very much in the early exponential phase, suggesting big further increases to come. Halloween has now reached an inflection point where there’s a substantial future synergy between the public’s awareness of the day, their desire to mark it, and the ability of business to enhance this desire with advertising and then profit from it with increased sales.

Not having any emotional connection to Halloween from my childhood, I feel a little sorry to see Guy Fawkes Night pale into relative insignificance. Zombies may be cool, but they’d burn up nicely if you fired a few Rockets into them.

Image via Wikipedia

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